An artist in search of a model to sit for them could do a lot worse than ask the mother of a breastfed newborn. Never in my life have I sat so still for such long periods as in those first few weeks of my eldest daughter's life. At first, it seemed an impossible task: my body, tense with the fear of not getting it right, ached; my mind, used to the constant stimulation of my former life, fidgeted and paced restlessly like a caged animal. In a way reminiscent of my many attempts at meditation, I have learnt, or begun to learn, through breastfeeding, the art of coming to stillness, and - harder still - accepting it. Even now, four years on, I have nursing sessions filled with frustration and resistance, when my mind and body together refuse to accept that it's time to just be there, to just be . Sometimes, difficult feelings, dark thoughts arise, and, as in meditation, there is no easy means of escape. On other days I relish the chance to spiral inwards and float around in the de...